


happy birthday nipuni! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

by whitechapelcharlie



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 12:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18120743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitechapelcharlie/pseuds/whitechapelcharlie
Summary: Nalia forgot to tell anyone it was her birthday. Silly sausage.Not really "mature", I'm being overcautious because of implications.





	happy birthday nipuni! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nipuni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nipuni/gifts).



> I don't know Nalia's birthday, but we'll just pretend this is set on the right date for her (´ ∀ ` *)

 Nalia woke, but didn’t open her eyes right away; she was comfortable, warm and well rested for the first time in what felt like forever. She hid her face in her pillow to escape the sunlight and kicked her feet under the covers. Try as she might, she couldn’t get back to sleep, so with a sigh of defeat, she sat up and stretched, blinking in the bright morning light. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she sat for a moment, still feeling sleep-heavy and reluctant to leave the warm cocoon of her quarters.

 

 With a frown and a sudden mustering of determination, Nalia reminded herself that she was the _Inquisitor_ , and it the _Inquisitor_ couldn’t build a nest and live in it while the rest of Skyhold held back the apocalypse. Until tonight, anyway.

 

 She opened the balcony doors to let in some cold air, hoping that might jolt her awake. It did; gasping, she wrapped her arms around herself as an icy breeze chilled her lungs and blew her hair back from her body, raising goosebumps on her skin. She ventured outside, bare feet on the freezing floor, and put her hands on the stone railing. The sun reflecting off the snow was blinding but beautiful, and the sky was a clear blue that brightened her eyes as she looked up. Quietly, she sang to herself, a birthday rhyme she knew from childhood. After so many birthdays spent elsewhere, it felt strange to be here on this one. Not _bad_ , but different. She hadn’t told anyone about it. Everyone had been so busy, she hadn’t found a natural place in conversation to say, _Hey! It’s my birthday tomorrow!_ But, she didn’t mind, not really. When she thought of the friends she’d made and the places she’d seen since leaving home, she couldn’t imagine anything else she could ask for. Not to mention--

 

 “Sleep well?”

 

 Nalia spun around, startled, and almost immediately laughed. Solas had intercepted a servant on the stairs and had brought her breakfast to her himself, the small round tray balanced easily on one hand.

 

 “ _Yes_ .” she replied with a narrow-eyed look. He knew very well she had. _He’d been there_ . She gave an overdramatic sigh and glanced at him sideways, trying to look as serious as she could. “Thank you, _elven serving man_. You can leave that over there…”

 

 Solas smiled, shook his head and reached out to pull Nalia closer with his one free arm as she stepped toward him. Standing up higher on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Blindly, he tried to feel for the small table by the balcony and managed to precariously balance Nalia’s tray half-off it. It rattled as he let go, pulling her in with a hand on her hip and one in her hair to return her kiss as deeply as he could before letting her go. She laughed as she caught her breath and was about to speak when he cut her off.

 

 “I’m afraid I have to go. There’s much to do today.”

 

 Nalia blinked in surprise.  


 “I’ll help!” she replied.

 

 He shook his head. “These are not tasks you can help with, vhenan. Do not concern yourself, _the Inquisitor_ is busy enough as it is.”

 

 Before she could protest, he was gone.  
  _Well…_ that _was odd_ .  
 Nalia couldn’t feel offended -- they _had_ spent last night together, even if they were sleeping in different rooms -- but something did feel a little _off_ about the way he’d come and gone so suddenly.

 

 She took her time getting dressed, picking from her breakfast tray whenever she passed it. With her hair properly tied in place and her boots laced up, she felt ready to face whatever came next. Which was just as well, as the second she entered Skyhold’s hall, she was faced with a flustered Josephine.

 

 “ _Inquisitor!_ Do you have a moment?”

 

 _And it begins already_. “Of course, Josephine!”

 

***

 

 By the time Nalia returned to Skyhold’s hall that evening, she was exhausted. She had taken a break in the late afternoon to join Bull in the tavern for a few drinks; they’d left her pleasantly mellow and not so cold as she ought to have been. The air felt _refreshing_ more than it felt icy. Her boots splashed in puddles of melted snow, but she barely registered the chill in her toes. She felt a little strange, keeping her secret like this, but by now it seemed stranger still to tell everyone _after_ the fact. They might think she was trying to make them feel guilty for not knowing. Besides, she’d had a good day. There were new residents in the stables, the biggest _nugs_ she’d ever seen, and she’d spent part of the late morning eating cake Sera had pilfered from somewhere. Varric had come with her to look for elfroot for the surgeon, and he’d entertained her with a few stories while they wandered through the snow.

 She _had_ missed Solas, though. Having him around had become so normal to her that his absence was _felt_. As she passed the door to his study, she checked to see if he was there. He wasn’t. The torches were cold and dark. He had told her he’d be busy, so… maybe he’d gone to bed already. Forcing her disappointment down, Nalia made her way back to her quarters, thinking about how she might build that nest. Some dry socks might be nice, first.

 As she made her way there, she pulled her coat off and her hair free. At the top, she noticed that her door was open. Had she left it that way? It wouldn’t be like her -- maybe a servant had left it like that.

 Nalia pushed the door open and threw her coat aside as she reached the top of the short staircase inside. Glancing up once, she didn’t really take in anything she saw; it took her a moment to realise she wasn’t alone, and when she did, her mouth fell open.

 

 “Solas!”

 

 He was leaning against the nearest post of her bed, a smirk on his face that always seemed to come out when he was especially pleased with himself.

 

 “Welcome back, Inquisitor.”

 

 The fire crackled. It and the candles dotted around the room provided the only light, warm and comforting. A blanket had been thrown down flat in front of the fire, and on it were Nalia’s favourite snacks, as well as a few she hadn’t seen before - both Antivan and Orlesian - and an open bottle of wine.

 

 “How did you know?” Nalia asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

 

 “I could think of no other reason you’d be singing happy birthday to _yourself_ , vhenan.” Solas replied.

 

 “What if you’d been wrong, hm?” Nalia replied.

 

 Solas thought for a moment. “I suppose I _could_ pretend it was mine. But the truth is, it hardly matters. If I’d been wrong, you’d still deserve the gesture.”

 

 “ _Sweet talker_.”

 

 Nalia took the glass he offered and the two of them sat by the fire. She finished pulling her boots off, tossed them aside and stretched her legs out to warm her toes. It was rare that Solas _drank_ ; travelling the Fade involved a precise chemistry. He wouldn’t drink _tea_ for fear of disrupting his journeys, let alone alcohol. Tonight must have been a night off for him, and there were something subtly seductive in knowing that he’d made the decision to push aside the unreal for her. It might her more aware of his physical presence next to her, his warmth and the scent of his skin, and the way his fingers played idly with the ends of her hair as his hand rested on her waist.

 He asked her about her previous birthdays; that led into her talking about Antiva, and how different it had been. Solas thought he sensed a longing in her tone, and asked if she planned to return there.

 

 “Someday. I’d like to see it again. Would you come with me?”

 

 He glanced down at his glass. For a fraction of a second, too quick to catch, his gaze misted over and he seemed sorrowful; then it passed. He smiled, looked up at the fire.

 

 “I’d like to see it too.”

 

 Nalia leaned her head against his shoulder and asked him about _his_ past, since they were on the subject, questions about how his own birthdays had been spent. His answers were characteristically vague; she often got the impression that nothing much besides studying and sleeping happened before he joined the Inquisition. It was sad to think of, in the sense that she’d have liked to have met him earlier, given him something to pay attention to in the real world sooner. Before they realised it, they’d finished off the wine he brought as well as one she’d been given as a gift by one of Josie’s visiting dignitaries. When Solas drank, he hid the effects well, but as time passed, his inhibitions began to drop. He was less controlled, less reserved. Any emotion he felt was audible in his voice, and his laughter came more easily, he talked far more freely. Nalia found herself watching him, curling closer, her glass still held loosely in her hand. His arm around her shifted, his hand settled on her hip, fingers pressing slightly too hard for it to have been an unconscious movement. Solas put his glass down at his side and picked at the tiny flower petals on a miniature cake.

 

 “I’ve never done anything like this before,” he said quietly. Then, even quieter still: “I’ve never cared to.”

 

 “You’ve done a good job,” Nalia replied. “Thank you.”

 

 He brought the little flower up to his eyeline to examine it more closely, then offered it to Nalia, who took it in her fingertips. Not a flower at all, but a delicate sugar construction.

 

 “You say that as if the night’s over.”

 

 She laughed her disagreement; then she opened her mouth, put the flower on her tongue and leaned up to kiss him, the tiny piece of sugar melting in both their mouths. Something about that action was just daring enough to cause something in Solas to snap; wine spilled across the blanket and soaked into the carpet underneath as Nalia was pushed onto it, her arms already around his neck, stopping him from breaking their kiss. Not that he would have done otherwise. His hands slipped under her clothes, fingers curling around her waistband to pull it down as his mouth left hers and kissed her jaw, her neck, the hollow above her collarbone.

 Nalia gasped sharply, her hand grabbing the blanket beside her as she stared at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. She'd be sleeping in tomorrow.

 


End file.
